Chapter 194

Screeeech.

When Ian opened the interrogation room in the Star Tower, Marib was staring out the window. A single beam of light pierced the dim interior. Even as the mages shuffled piles of documents, he remained motionless, his gaze fixed outside—as if he couldn’t believe the future he never imagined had come to pass.

“Your Highness, please be seated. We will begin the interrogation.”

Unlike Gale, whose neck had been slashed, Marib was intact—no major wounds. Though dust clung to him here and there, for the man who had thrown the imperial palace into chaos, he looked remarkably composed. Most of his key supporters, including his aide, had died with their limbs torn apart.

“You’re conducting this personally?”

Marib turned around. His eyes held a calm, almost resigned smile. Ian wondered where he’d seen that look before, then realized it was the same expression Gale had worn while lying on the bed. Both desperate to kill each other, yet bound by blood.

“Yes. I will treat you with due respect, so please cooperate.”

“An interrogation, huh? What a waste of effort. If it were me, I’d never bother with such a tedious thing.”

Marib’s spirit was already broken. He had stabbed the emperor, stolen the imperial seal, and tried to kill his own brother. Now, stripped of his royal status, his fate was surely beheading. Without trial, the outcome was clear—why waste time on interrogation?

But Ian merely flipped through the documents without a word.

“Your Highness might think so, but I am not like that.”

Every step of the trial would be precise and proper. Only by doing so could the chaos wrought by the two princes be corrected, the legitimacy of the next emperor Jin be established, and the foundation of centralized power be secured.

“First, the attempted assassination of His Majesty the Emperor. Records show that for months, His Majesty suffered breathing difficulties during sleep.”

“Oh, yes. He did complain about uncomfortable nights. Even claimed to see the dead. But what does that have to do with me?”

Thud.

Ian laid out the evidence Gale had handed over—the one he received in exchange for overlooking the Wesley curse and neutralizing the Sil Dam potion.

Marib slowly flipped through the papers, a bitter chuckle escaping him. It seemed he had finally understood something.

“So this is why you and Gale were so close.”

Now he knew why he hadn’t clearly chosen a side between himself and Gale. The entire situation had been in Ian’s hands, and Marib couldn’t deny it.

“To treat a lowborn bastard from the borderlands like this… ha, ha.”

“If you have a defense, speak now.”

Ian casually skimmed another document, ready to refute any argument.

“These are official trial materials. You’d best say whatever you can.”

Leaning back, Marib met Ian’s gaze. Born a prince, destined to die an emperor—he had always believed that.

Is this the end? Is this truly the end? He muttered, watching the sunlight spill over him. His spirit was broken, but his neck was not yet bent.

“Wasn’t this all your doing, Ian?”

Ian froze. The mage recording the interrogation in the corner flinched, as did the observers. Marib’s sudden accusation drew frowns all around.

“Me?”

“Yes. You urged this.”

“Your Highness, I was in the Hielo territory at the time.”

“You are a mage. You had means.”

Ian caught Marib’s intent and let out a sharp smile. This was a ploy to drag out the trial with absurd testimony, hoping to find a flaw if any faction opposed Ian in the palace.

When the scribe put down his pen, Marib snapped:

“Do not twist the record to suit your tastes. Not a single word omitted.”

A petty threat, promising to cause trouble in court.

Ian waved lightly, signaling to continue. Incoherent claims could be dismissed without explanation.

“Honestly, it’s fortunate this mess happened now. Had Your Highness ascended the throne, it wouldn’t have been the palace that fell, but Bariel itself.”

Ian said it bluntly—Marib was not only unfit but utterly disgraceful.

Veins bulged at Marib’s temple, but he only smiled. Humiliation for opportunity was nothing. As long as he lived, as long as he could alert the gods to his plight, he would do anything.

“The sword strike against His Majesty was witnessed and testified to by the three generals, including Beols. There’s no room for dispute there. But the stolen imperial seal remains missing—what have you done with it?”

“I colluded with the Mage Department and handed it over. That’s why I’m still alive.”

Bang!

“Ian, I can’t bear to hear this!”

A mage shouted in protest. Marib grinned, and Ian frowned, signaling him to restrain himself. No need to get riled up over such petty tricks.

“You know Rutherford, don’t you?”

“Oh, the merchant guild?”

“How did you come to make a deal with them?”

“When was it? Some time ago, after the Grand Tour, we crossed into the Hwan Kingdom. That’s when I met Rutherford. You were with me then, Ian, back when it was the Bratz territory—must have been about this tall.”

The Grand Tour was a short journey taken by the privileged youth, traveling neighboring countries to learn about culture, economy, and society. With dozens of carriages in tow, it was more a procession than a trip.

Marib casually measured Ian’s height with a hand.

“Hmm. Was it really that tall?”

“Your smoke is excellent.”

Though Marib had truly been on the Grand Tour, no one in the interrogation room believed it. “So this is the prince we’ve been fawning over,” the scribe sighed, carefully recording every word.

Swish.

At that moment, Marib caught sight of silver hair passing by the window behind Ian. Judging by the height, it was a child. How many silver-haired children could enter the palace, let alone the interrogation room?

‘Arsen?’

No. It must be Jin. He had seen Jin cling to Ian in the Dilaina palace. And at the Mage Department, where they went to kill Jin, their bond was confirmed.

If it was Ian who toyed with him and Gale, then surely he sought to control the center through Jin.

“Strange, though.”

“What is?”

“I don’t understand why you sided with Jin instead of Arsen. I get everything else, but that one thing I can’t grasp.”

The mage standing quietly flinched.

Ah, Jin tugged at his collar. The child’s doubt struck at the heart of the matter. Why Jin, not Arsen? Everyone would think the same.

‘Because Jin is the remaining card that can rival Arsen, the one Dilaina took in.’

“There’s nothing to understand.”

Ian suppressed his rising irritation. This nonsense was crossing the line. There were mountains of things to fix—why waste time on meaningless quarrels?

His lowered voice made the mages glance nervously, biting their lips.

‘Please, Your Highness, just be quiet.’

‘Ian looks like he’s about to lose his temper.’

“If your support for Jin is only superficial, fine. There may be no reason. You who toyed with Gale and me can surely handle one brat like that. Do you think I don’t know what’s in your heart?”

Thud!

Finally, Ian slammed the documents shut and crossed his arms. So tiresome…

“Prince Marib, please, just be quiet.”

Boom!

At that moment, something hit the door.

Ian turned to see Jin crouching, rubbing his forehead. He must have pulled the doorknob too hard in his nervousness. Xiaosi, pale-faced, checked Jin’s forehead.

“Your Highness?”

“Ah, sorry. I meant to announce my presence.”

Ian immediately stood and gestured to the mages to continue the interrogation in his stead.

“Your Highness, is your forehead alright?”

“It’s fine…”

“Jin, that’s quite a wound.”

Marib propped his chin on his hand and called his half-brother over. The cut ran straight across his face—perhaps a mark of the emperor, unknown to them.

“You dodged the eyes. Be thankful to me.”

“Please leave. This place is foul.”

Screech!

Bang!

The door slammed shut without hesitation, as if they were shooing away something dirty. Jin kept rubbing his forehead, looking up at Ian.

“Sir Ian, sorry to interrupt.”

“Not at all. I was just about to give up, since there was nothing to gain.”

“…You know…”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

Jin stopped as he left the Star Tower.

“I want to be absolutely clear.”

“What is it?”

Ian met Jin’s gaze and bowed slightly. He had clearly heard all of Marib’s nonsense. He knew Jin was here. He should have just told him to shut up earlier instead of enduring it.

“Why you follow me.”

“Hm.”

Jin clenched his fist. It was a question he’d meant to ask for some time. Whether now was the right moment was another matter.

Why does Ian help me? Why does Ian value me? Does he truly see me only as a ‘card’ to oppose Arsen?

If so… what then?

“Your Highness.”

Ian smiled faintly. It was clear from his small face that a whirlwind of thoughts was racing through his mind. He spoke calmly, explaining each point one by one.

“I understand this must be confusing. But it’s precisely at times like these that you need to stay calm, read the situation carefully, and use it to your advantage.”

A place with no eternal enemies or lifelong friends.

That was the imperial palace.

“Accept the essence as it is, without getting caught up in right or wrong.”

If Ian held Jin’s hand out of sympathy, would that be right? And if he had ulterior motives, would that be wrong? No matter how you looked at it, both were beneficial to Jin—and therefore, justified.

“But if you understand the essence, it will be easier to prepare for the changing tides ahead.”

“So you’re saying that, regardless of Ian’s true intentions, I should use him for now?”

“Exactly. And once Your Highness’s authority is secure, take a moment to catch your breath and look to me again. Then, a new perspective will open up.”

Xiaoxi, who had been listening nearby, glanced at her master with a puzzled expression. To speak so openly about using and discarding someone—that was a mindset not easily embraced. Ian’s sincerity toward Jin was clear, but did Jin truly understand it?

“…This is too difficult.”

“That’s alright. You will learn firsthand.”

“Remember the essence.”

Jin gripped Ian’s sleeve tightly, then met his gaze with determined eyes.

“Then answer my earlier question.”

“Why do you follow Your Highness?”

Ian nodded with a gentle smile.

“Because you carry a great wound.”

The mark of the emperor.

The curse of the oracle.

And the fate of being abandoned by your mother.

All of it was a massive scar. Ian gently removed Jin’s hand from his sleeve and asked,

“What do you think?”

“…I want to believe you spoke the truth.”

“Yes. Then believe it. Your Highness is the center of the world; your belief is the truth itself.”

Ding—dong!

At that moment, the deep chime of a massive clock echoed from afar. It was the signal that the palace gates would soon be opened.